Saturday, 30 August 2014

A trip to the seaside today: we were on a mission. However, before the job in hand we had time to pull in a spot of breakfast (baked beans and poached eggs with coffee to die for at the Mojo), then a slight detour while I tried on a few shirts: the Uncle Burt I came way with was probably last seen at the height of Rollermania. I was actually singing Shang-a-Lang in the unfeasibly small changing room.

But I digress. Our mission was two fold. We had to get our photographs taken and then present them at the railway station to acquire a rather neat railcard currently doing the rounds called Two Together which gets you a third off all rail journeys - well, all rail journeys with the other person on your, what is in effect, joint railcard. A couple of trips to see the Number One Son and it'll have paid for itself. As for the photographs, we found a charming photo shop tucked away in a quiet part of town where a most genial chap in a plaid shirt (not a Rollers shirt, I hasten to add) took us into his parlour at the back of the shop and turned us both into beautiful people. We were allowed to giggle as it wasn't for passport purposes. 'You have to look as if your budgie has just passed away, on the day your wife announces she's leaving you, if you were having a passport picture taken' he informed us.

Howard & Hilda

Back to the front of the shop to print our smiling beguiling pictures where a most helpful girl, wearing a matching plaid shirt, behind the counter took payment. 'Company issue?' I enquired, pointing to the shirts. A look of embarrassment shot over her. 'No!' she said, emphatically. 'Bas walked in five minutes after me this morning wearing the same shirt. What are the chances?' I couldn't possibly say. That's one I'll leave to Howard and Hilda.

A short walk to the railway station where our shiny new photos were put in a shiny new case for the next time we climb aboard one of East Coast's shiny new trains.

Just time for a quick aside. Before leaving the station we took a walk to the farthest platform as I knew we would find a truly remarkable, and indeed record breaking, bench: weighing in at 139 metres long it's the longest railway station seat in the world.

Monday, 25 August 2014

London may have been swinging and California may well have have been dreaming, but in 1966 there was no way you could release an album with four people in a bath, clothed or unclothed, on the cover and get away with it. Nor could it have a lavatory in the foreground. And thus a collectors item was born.

Bog all

But what a debut album The Mamas & The Papas' If You Can Believe Your Eyes And Ears was. Aside from the monster hit singles, Monday Monday & California Dreaming and John Lennon's I Call Your Name, it also contained a sassy cover of The In Crowd. Pass the soap.

Sunday, 24 August 2014

Clearing out the garage this morning I stumbled upon a veritable treasure trove of seemingly lost photographs, slides, concert and theatre programmes, button badges, commemorative beer glasses and general flotsam and jetsam I've been dragging round with me all my adult life.

My penchant for badges has never left me. From my Blue Peter badge (which I still have c/w the letter from Biddy Baxter that came with it) to the band badges I used to wear as a kid on denim jackets - I would always hunt them down at Record Fairs and market stalls and pin them on my lapel. And only recently I picked up an Old Grey Whistle Test 'star-kicker' that I have on a 'going down the pub jacket'.

But in 1973 I discovered patches: take a look at the photograph of me (found earlier today) taking against a watery backdrop. If you look really carefully you'll be able to make out two letter boxes on my knees; they're actually cloth patches about the same size as an old bank note. In fact, the one on my left knee is a bank note - an Alice Cooper Billion Dollar note. The one on the right, and I can see it now, is Messrrs. Connolly, Priest, Scott and Tucker: The Sweet.

Keith Moon, it would appear, was rather partial to patches too. His famous white boiler suit (the 'July' calendar photo from their 1976 Charlton gig - this was also in a box lurking at the back of the garage) was bedecked with them. I always hankered after the Esso one, but could never find one. Interestingly, the above mentioned drinking jacket has three patches running down the left arm. More proof, if proof were needed, that I'm still not ready to be a grown up.

Saturday, 23 August 2014

I heard this tune for the first time yesterday. A little over 24 hours later, I can't get the bloody thing out of my head. And I can't help thinking I've heard it before, which, of course, I have: it's ABC's and Haircut One Hundred's notes but, to paraphrase Eric Morecambe, 'not necessarily in the right order.'

Tuesday, 19 August 2014

Norm Larsen, founder of the Rocket Chemical Company based in San Diego, was a chemist. A bloody good chemist. And like a lot of chemists he was always looking to find that elusive breakthrough. In 1953, at the fortieth time of trying, he hit upon a formula for a water degreasing agent/lubricant he thought may have applications in the aerospace industry.

As with a lot of boffins he never had a commercial brain. He sold the company not long after, complete with its only product, for a paltry $20,000 - no royalties, no residuals. He always reckoned on inventing something better; he never did. Larsen died in 1970.
The WD-40 company (they dropped the Rocket moniker 'because we don't sell rockets') now has an annual turnover in excess of $300 million.

These days WD-40 is one half of, along with duct tape, what is affectionately called the Redneck Tool Kit: if it isn't moving and it should: WD-40. And if it is moving and it shouldn't: duct tape.

Saturday, 16 August 2014

I've been reading David Hepworth's blog 'What's He On About Now?' for as long as I can remember. In fact if it wasn't for him and the irrepressible Mondo, 'Even Monkeys Fall Out Of Trees' probably wouldn't have got off the ground. Last year David and I both both appeared in Saga magazine's Top 50 over-50 Blogs; not quite the Man Booker Prize, but I was chuffed all the same.

David's CV, however, extends way beyond blogging. Broadcaster, journalist, publishing industry analyst, he's been spinning around in my orbit ever since he co-hosted The Whistle Test with Mark Ellen in the 80s and continues to do so through his writing and podcasts. He is also soon to be a published author.

David kindly agreed to answer a few probing questions for this humble blog.

You're obviously passionate about print journalism, but where is the next generation of great writers going to come from?

I'm not sure I am passionate about print journalism. I read and value some of it but my children's generation don't, and they're the ones who will decide its future. There's lots of good writing all over the place, some of it long and some of it short; there's more of it than ever before. The difference is people have great difficulty getting paid for it. I don't know what the answer is. If I did I'd be a billionaire.

I understand you're writing a book about 1971. What, for you, sets that year apart from any other?

It was the last year before rock starting repeating itself. It was the last year before the music business took over and the tail began wagging the dog. It was the last year of all rock stars having hair. It's the annus mirabilis of the rock album. There wasn't a dull moment.

If you hadn't have been hosting Live Aid would you have gone to Wembley for the day?

Frankly, probably not. Those were our years for raising small children and Saturdays were spent ferrying them between swimming lessons and parties. And since I never watch music on TV I would probably have missed it altogether.

Can anything replace the 45 rpm single?

For all sorts of reasons, no. Pop flourished amid scarcity and now it's just another thing which we have an over supply of. That's not to say people don't still like music. It's just that they can never feel what I felt for Good Vibrations because nobody can imagine the background against which it appeared. Two TV channels. One radio station playing no more than ten discs a day.

Is Amazon the new HMV on Oxford Street?

Well, it's bigger, better stocked and a lot more sinister. The thing that shops like HMV offered was an education. You spent hours in the place - in my case, since I worked there, years - and you absorbed a huge amount that it's impossible to absorb nowadays. That's the problem with on-line retailing. Vast choice which you can only glimpse through a tiny window.

Is London getting too big for its boots?

The great thing about London is its complete indifference to what anybody thinks of it. We're really not bothered because we live in London and we wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Once a year Hartlepool supporters descend on the capital dressed as Smurfs or penguins or whatever. This in my experience is the only thing from outside London that impresses Londoners.

Who was the last band you paid to go and see? And were they as the first band you went to see?

I honestly can't remember. But since the first act I went to see was Chuck Berry I think it's safe to say that they weren't.

What a bummer, you've just had two dinner party invites land on your doormat for next Saturday night. One from Paul McCartney, the other
from Ray Davies. Who do you let down politely?

I suppose I'd go to Macca's because he's living history and my wife would be tickled to meet him. Mind you, vegetarian food is a bit of a drawback. Seriously, I've met lots of famous rock stars and the overwhelming majority of them are only comfortable talking about themselves which makes them not brilliant at socialising. If I could choose one to socialise with it would be Randy Newman, who's just interested in people and funny about them. He's had me weeping with laughter.

Can you ever read for pure enjoyment or are you always framing a 500 word review whilst turning the pages?

I am *always* reading for pure enjoyment. There is nothing I would rather do. I find it very difficult to read out of duty. I'm never framing 500 word reviews because they're really hard work. I prefer to write something on my blog because as soon as I'm bored I stop.

It's common knowledge that Penny Lane is the The Beatles' finest hour. But what other two tracks would it share the podium with?

Tuesday, 12 August 2014

I hadn't seen Suzie in nearly 40 years. But about two years ago I received an email that contained in its subject box the words 'Are you the John Medd that used to live in Grantham?' The email read 'If you are, I have a photo of us together and you're wearing a most remarkable shirt.' I may be paraphrasing. And it was signed 'Suzie, your cousin - though everyone calls me Susan these days.' I simply replied 'Yes.'

That shirt

The next thing I knew another email arrived enclosing a photograph of us taken at a family wedding in 1975 - the last time we saw each other. And of course I remembered Suzie (and the shirt) vividly. Suzie not least because whenever we visited her I was always struck dumb by her bedroom: it was, quite literally, covered from top to bottom in Marc Bolan posters. Walls, ceiling, mirrors, every square inch of her room was given over to The Jeepster himself. The shirt because, as I told her when she came up on Friday for a 24 hour smash and grab visit, I loved that shirt so much I'm actually thinking of going to a tailor, with the photograph, and asking him to reproduce it - albeit several sizes larger.

Anyway, we stayed up 'til 7 o'clock in the morning drinking wine spodeeodee and generally playing catch up. But by the time the sun came up I'd be hard pushed to tell you most of what we'd been talking about. Though I can remember, quite clearly, her telling me that she went to see Marc Bolan and T Rex in the spring of 1977 not long before he wrapped his Mini round a tree in Barnes. She said he was back on form and it was also the tour he'd got The Damned supporting him. Sorry Suzie, you're going to have to come back again and tell me all that other stuff again.

Monday, 11 August 2014

Local radio often gets a bad press; I blame Steve Coogan. If Alan Partridge wasn't the figment of some smart alec Mancunian's imagination you'd think BBC radio out in the provinces was full of identikit jocks playing the same golden oldies from an identikit playlist. Thank God then for stations like BBC Radio Leeds, home of respected broadcaster Martin Kelner. Martin, it would be fair to say, has been around the block a few times. Apart from the aforementioned gig at Radio Leeds he's on Five Live's Fight Talk and back in the nineties could be heard nationally on Radio 2; sometimes depping for Wogan, but more often than not on his own late night slot on the nation's favourite network. He's passionate about sport too and used to write a very engaging column, Screen Break, in The Guardian as well as writing a well received book on the history of sport on TV - Sit Down and Cheer. He's recently moved his typewriter to The Racing Post.

So, no slouch he: a voracious blogger and podcaster too and, back in the day, gave Caroline Aherne a springboard for Mrs. Merton with weekly comedy sketches on his Piccadilly Radio show in Manchester. Matin kindly agreed to answer a few quick fire questions for the blog.Talking
for a living or writing for a living: what feels more comfortable –
being in front of a microphone or a hunched over a keyboard?

I much
prefer the radio for the immediacy of it. I find writing a struggle.
It is however satisfying when you have crafted a piece and it has
worked out well.

In your memoir, When Will I Be Famous, you likened working in show
business to cleaning up after the circus elephant.

It was just
a joke really!

Were
you at Radio 2 when it was still pipe and slippers or had they
started morphing into what it is today?

Very
much pipe, slippers, and Mantovani in my day. However I was given
the Saturday afternoon show with a brief to make it slightly more
daring; playing exciting sounds from Simon and Garfunkel and The
Kinks

Who
did you look up to when you started in radio?

Mainly
comic figures; the Round The Horne people, and the cast of I'm Sorry
I'll Read That Again.

Is
writing about sport better than playing it?

It
all depends on the level you play at. I played football for various
junior clubs and on those rare occasions when I played a blinder it
certainly beat writing about it.

I
heard you and Danny Baker had a bit of a set to.

Not
really. I had a bit of a go at his last show on Radio London, which
I thought was self-indulgent - and still do - and Alan Davies got the
wrong end of the stick, thinking I was attacking the great man per
se, and rushed to Twitter, as he has done on other occasions rather
unwisely. Danny himself never reacted.

It
says on Wikipedia you're a singer.

Different
Martin Kelner, a Spanish artiste I believe. Though you should hear
me in the shower. Have done some karaoke - Do Wah Diddy Diddy, song
of choice.

And
that you discovered Mrs. Merton.

I
did. She appeared on my North of England late night show in the early
to mid '90s

Do you still read The Guardian?

On
a Saturday always. Occasionally midweek.

Writing for the Racing Post, you must have tips coming out of your
ears?

Hmm.
It's picking the winning ones that counts - a trick I haven't
mastered yet.You're
a northerner with roots in Manchester and Leeds. Do you think
London's getting too big for its boots?

Economically,
definitely. But I'm not alone in that, both Government and
opposition are promising a boost for the North post-election.

Thursday, 7 August 2014

Glossop Record Club are screening Made in Sheffield - The Birth of Electronic Pop, complete with an introduction by its director Eve Wood. Maybe when the good people at Henderson's are looking at branding their next limited edition bottles (as they did successfully both locally and nationally with Sheffield Wednesday and Sheffield United colours), they could do something similar with Sheffield bands, perhaps with Heaven 17 or Human League labels. Or even The Comsat Angels.

The film is showing at Glossop Labour Club on Thursday 11 September and admission is free. Unlike my favourite relish, often referred to as Hendo's or just Relish, which currently retails at £2.49.

and
then…) That’s
where it all began Paulie. If it wasn’t for Elvis there’d

have
been no Quarrymen and no Beatles. He kick-started me; within

hours of
hearing that on Radio Luxembourg I pleaded with Aunt Mimi to

buy me a
guitar. Bless her, I must have caught her on a good day cos we

went
straight into town and into Hessy’s on Matthew Street. £7 it cost

and
you got a free lesson!
That’s how I learned my first three chords!

(plays
3 chords to demonstrate).

(P):
And I showed you a fourth, B Minor. Remember?

(J):
How could I forget? With B Minor (plays
B Minor chord) I could
play Little

Richard,
Buddy Holly and
Elvis!

(P):
Don’t forget Eddie Cochrane. It was because I was the only kid in

Liverpool
who could play ‘Twenty Flight Rock’ that you let me join The

Quarrymen.

(J):
Here (passes
guitar back) – See
if you can still remember it.

(P):
Right. (coughs)
- ‘Ooh, well I got a girl with a record machine, when

it comes
to rockin' she's the queen, We love to dance on a Saturday

night’-

(J):
-Hang on! Hang On! Let me go and get another guitar.

(JOHN
COMES BACK WITH ANOTHER GUITAR AND A TAPE MACHINE).

(J):
Do you know what? You
and me never recorded together. It was

always
the band or solo; never just the two of us. Let’s just hit the

record
button and see what happens…

(P):
That’s cool with me, man.

FX-
THEY CONTINUE WITH ‘TWENTY FLIGHT ROCK’ AND THEN FOLLOW IT
WITH SEVERAL MORE ROCK AND ROLL STANDARDS. THE NEXT 60-90 SECONDS OF
THE PLAY DIPS IN AND OUT OF THIR JAM WHICH, MIDWAY THROUGH ‘TUTTI
FRUTTI,’ IS PUNCTUATED BY THE TIMER ON JOHN’S OVEN.

(J):
That’ll be the bread! Come on, let’s go and look at your first
loaf!

FX-
JOHN OPENS OVEN DOOR

(P):
That’s amazing! And it smells amazing!

(J):
Let’s leave it to cool down for a few minutes and then you can

taste
it.

FX-
TELEPHONE RINGS

(J):
Oh hello love. You’ll never guess who’s here… Paulie…I know I

what I
said, but he was very persuasive…making bread and playing

rock and
roll!...OK, I’ll tell him. See you later love. Yoko says hi but
she’s

working
on an installation in Greenwich Village; said she’ll be late.

(P):
Tai Chi, Installations. She’s a busy woman. Tell her I was sorry to

miss
her; I used to like chewing the fat with her.

(J):
You used to wind her up something chronic.

(P):
That’s because I blamed her for breaking up the band.

(J):
Breaking up the band?! She kept the band together!
It was Yoko

who kept
pushing me out the door to go to all the recording sessions, to

meet the
press, to write new songs. Without Yoko there’d have been no

White
Album, no Abbey Road, no Let It Be. Paul, there’d have been no

rooftop
gig without Yoko. Get Back wouldn’t have seen the light of day.

(P):
You couldn’t be persuaded to go back on tour after ’66. Getting

up on
that rooftop was the nearest we got to playing live again.

(J):
And then the bizzies moved us on! (laughs)

(P):
One of those coppers tried to unplug George’s guitar – Ringo

threw a
drumstick at him! (laughs)

(J):
That was a good day – I enjoyed it.

(P):
What about today? Are you enjoying today?

(J):
I’ve always enjoyed your company Paul. Even when you used to

get all
heavy on me. We drifted apart that’s all. It’s quite common. Most